


deadly fever

by rime



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Tea Drinking, What is this pairing, dislike, hubert is a fuckin vampire, i am ferdinand von aegir, irritation, this isn't even a pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 01:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rime/pseuds/rime
Summary: "Edelgard... is gay?!" he spluttered, unthinkingly."She prefers the company of her own sex," said Hubert coldly."Then I do too! I mean, I am. And always have been," said Ferdinand, words stumbling after one another, "very definitely, er, also attracted! To the same sex, I mean."Hubert glowered.or, being straight at garreg mach monastery is no easy taskor, how ferdinand annoys hubert so much they end up makin out: A Biography[set in Black Eagles during Part 1]





	deadly fever

It had never once occurred to Ferdinand von Aegir to think of Edelgard as a being with sexual or romantic interests, let alone preferences. Yet he could not deny what he had just overheard in the dining hall: a tipsy Dorothea oversharing -- oversharing that _ Edelgard _ \--

"Edelgard... is _ gay_?!" he spluttered, unthinkingly.

"She prefers the company of her own sex," said Hubert coldly. 

"Then I do too! I mean, I am. And always have been," said Ferdinand, words stumbling after one another, "very definitely, er, also attracted! To the same sex, I mean." 

Hubert glowered.

"Ferdie. That _ can't _ be true."

"It most certainly is true. I can lose to Edelgard on no battlefield. Especially not the battlefield of love!" he added, with a flourish that made his fellow Black Eagles shuffle their chairs away from him in unison.

"Yeah? Then who's your type, Ferdie?"

"I am having a misunderstanding," said Petra.

"I think we all are," said Linhardt. 

The professor said nothing; as did Hubert.

* * *

"You disgust me."

Ferdinand barely glanced up to identify the voice. For the glowering presence in his doorway could be none other than… 

"Hello, Hubert, and a fine evening to you too," he said tiredly, peeling off a mud-dredged boot. “How may I be of service?”

"To think that you would stoop to competing with Lady Edelgard in... _ romantic _ matters. Despicable, even for you." 

"Have you come to my chambers merely to insult me?" 

"I have not come to your chambers at all," said Hubert darkly. "I was merely striding towards my own."

"Is there a particular reason you harbor such animosity toward me?" said Ferdinand, fluffing his pillows. "I am genuinely curious." For he was. A slight by house Aegir, perhaps, toward house Vestra, from time immemorial? Or perhaps he himself had slighted Hubert's pride as a noble at some point? It was not altogether unimaginable. For such an offense he would be willing to apologize. 

He did not particularly _ like _ Hubert himself, but this level of vitriol seemed quite uncalled for...

"Who you are is reason enough."

Ah -- of course not. Merely Hubert being Hubert. 

Hubert went on.

"Your relationship to Lady Edelgard sickens me. Your transparent jealousy of one who has overcome countless hurdles to become who she is, your sense of entitlement -- it is honor enough that Lady Edelgard deems you of service. I have encouraged her more than once not to do so. Know your _ place_, Aegir." 

The entire utterance was so venomous a man of lesser upbringing would have had no response. But Ferdinand was no such man!

"You know, it really is no mystery why many members of our house find you unapproachable. Surely you are not like this with everyone.” 

"You are a unique affliction upon our house," responded Hubert, as though the answer were obvious to all. "I bear no ill will towards our other Black Eagles. Merely you alone."

Ferdinand yawned.

"Wonderful. Good evening, Hubert," he said, closing his door abruptly.

* * *

"Ferdie! I know what your type is!

“It's Hubie!"

The coughing fit Ferdinand experienced at this news sent Garreg Mach’s finest china flying across the dining hall, fragrant Almyran tea thoroughly dousing the pastries before him. 

"Might I ask," he coughed, weakly attempting to dry a sweet bun, "how you reached that conclusion?"

"I've seen the way you two look at each other. Full of frustration… and _ pathos_. An opera singer knows an aria when she sees one, you know!"

Ferdinand stopped, tea-soaked bun still in hand. "Dorothea, I cannot begin to understand how you decided this. Hubert and I are… ah..."

To be honest, he did not have a word for the concept. Like a nemesis with whom one regularly took meals while taking great care to never speak. 

"I almost think he likes you!" said Dorothea. This time the china stayed on the table -- but only just. "You should hear him talk about you. It’s really something!"

"About how much he... despises me?"

"He sounds like a jilted lover, if you ask me. Maybe he's just sad? You know." Dorothea produced a surprisingly good impression of what Hubert might look like if he pouted. “_Shut up and eat with me, since no one else will.’ _ I do think he's fond of you, in his own way."

"I don't," said Ferdinand, and Dorothea laughed.

* * *

Dorothea was not the only one who had noticed their animosity. The professor kept pairing them for tasks in a way that seemed none too coincidental: she had them weeding the gardens one week, training wyverns the next, polishing armor the week after that. An ordinary pair of students would surely have reconciled their differences after several such assignments. But Hubert was not ordinary, and of course neither was Ferdinand, so it came as no surprise to either that each nursed their grievances very effectively. 

“Must you stand so close? I cannot enjoy this sweet bun with you there.” 

"Pathetic fool."

"Servile... maladjust?"

"How Lady Edelgard endures you is beyond my comprehension."

"I could say the very same of you!"

But the man _ was _ competent. That even Ferdinand could admit. He was surprisingly strong and agile, with a gift for reason arts bordering on the uncanny. In all he was quite skilled: possibly more than Edelgard...? 

_ Possibly more than you, _ something inside him whispered, a voice Ferdinand was unused to hearing and disposed towards ignoring. 

Perhaps the most indifference Hubert ever showed him -- as opposed to seething hatred -- was on their breaks between tasks, when Ferdinand was accustomed to enjoy his tea. As a noble, he offered Hubert tea every time, as was his duty. 

As a noble, Hubert declined on every occasion. All save one.

* * *

“I have brought tea today,” said Hubert, an utterance that surprised Ferdinand greatly for two reasons: one, that it was made by Hubert towards him, and two, that Hubert was displaying something akin to… generosity of spirit. 

“This is surprising,” he said, even as Hubert poured the fragrant mixture into two small cups and offered him one. 

“This is the blend of the Hresvelgs, an unusually refined tea. As a gift from Lady Edelgard, I must… appreciate it.”

“Oh, is _ that _ it,” said Ferdinand. 

But the smell won him over. “It is quite refined,” he conceded, after a moment’s inhalation. “Hints of… Fodlan rose, I believe, but jasmine, too. And is that… anemone?” 

He took one long sip and sighed deeply. What an exquisite taste! The rose, the jasmine, the anemone: all there, bitter yet smooth, all perfectly in balance…

“You seem quite familiar with this tea.”

“Oh, no, I’ve never had it. Merely other teas from the south of Fodlan. They are all in the same family, possessing similar qualities of delicacy and spice.” As though an Aegir would be familiar with Hresvelg tea.

“You are not unperceptive,” said Hubert after a long pause, “in these… matters.”

“Of course not,” said Ferdinand. “I -- er, did you just say something nice to me?” 

“I am able to acknowledge virtue, even in those I despise.”

“I would much prefer you not acknowledge me again,” said Ferdinand. 

“Perhaps you could even teach me to enjoy this… beverage.” 

“Teach you to enjoy it...?”

“Heheh… your dismay is apparent. Indeed, I do not derive pleasure from the act of drinking tea. That is why I have chosen to consume it with you, rather than Edelgard.”

For once the slight to Ferdinand did not pique him even mildly -- not when far more pressing matters were at hand!

“Then you do not enjoy it _ already? _” he said, astonished. “But this is an intoxicating brew! Are its virtues not apparent? The heady aroma of jasmine? Those bitter flowers, tamed by gentle anemone?”

“Hm,” said Hubert.

“Close your eyes and taste it,” said Ferdinand. “I am certain that one such as yourself would enjoy it if you gave it a chance.”

Hubert lifted his cup as though it were a dead rat. He pressed the cup to his lips and took a searching draught of its contents. 

“...Perhaps you are right.”

* * *

Evening suited Garreg Mach Monastery, particularly in summer. Clusters of little wildflowers bloomed and blanketed the gardens, perfuming the air with the scents of the Garland Moon. A fat honeybee meandered through sweet-scented thickets, buzzing all the while.

On such an evening, Ferdinand found himself strolling the grounds of Garreg Mach before coming to a halt in the shadow of the main courtyard. 

"Ah, Ferdinand."

It was Hubert von Vestra, propped lazily against a pillar, tome in hand. 

Who else could it have been? On the night of the White Heron Cup, surely everyone else was in the dining hall, enjoying the festivities: succulent pheasant, fine wine, an orchestra, dancing... Well. He couldn't truly say, as he wasn’t there either. 

"I don't believe you have ever addressed me by name before," said Ferdinand. 

“I have developed a taste for that tea,” said Hubert. “I wished to… acknowledge your help.” 

“Well, this is a night of firsts,” said Ferdinand. “And what brings you to this courtyard? No one to dance with?” he added, with a stroke of inspiration. 

Hubert scowled. 

"Unlike you, I have no interest in… _ frivolities_.”

“I am… also not dancing,” said Ferdinand, who somehow found it more irksome when Hubert took him to task for something Hubert was _ also _ doing. Never mind that he was on his way to the Cup at that very moment. 

“Hm,” said Hubert, which Ferdinand took as a concession. 

“What are you reading?” he asked, glancing at the tome in Hubert’s hands. The volume, covered in arcane symbols and glyphs, looked more than faintly menacing. In fact, it looked like something not allowed in the monastery in all. 

“Nothing you would understand.” 

“Care to explain further?” 

“I do not,” said Hubert. “It would be wasted on you.”

“You could _ try_,” said Ferdinand crossly. And then, with a boldness that surprised himself: “I want you to treat me as an equal, Hubert.”

“You can’t always have what you want, _ Aegir,_” said Hubert. 

Something flickered within Ferdinand then, a flare of irritation that could not be easily quelled. Ferdinand was even-tempered by nature, or liked to think of himself as such, and it was not exactly _ becoming _ of a nobleman to raise his voice, but, well. 

Hubert had it coming.

"What is your problem?"

"Excuse me?"

"You are unconscionably rude to me," said Ferdinand, "whenever we speak. You go out of your way to antagonize me. What have I done?"

Hubert chuckled, a sound that could send birds rustling out of their trees. How a laugh could be so unpleasant Ferdinand had never understood! But after hours of shared stable-cleaning, he did know it for genuine mirth… somehow.

“And yet,” he said aloud, “I do feel as though you are not _ always _ pointlessly uncivil, as once you were.”

"For Lady Edelgard," said Hubert, "such sacrifices are necessary."

"It is almost as if," continued Ferdinand, wonderingly, "your dislike of me has abated. For else you would have no reason to speak to me at all."

Hubert was silent for a moment. 

"Perhaps I have come to find you endearing."

"Endearing?"

"Like a dog is endearing to one's master. I believe you will be of service to the Empire after all."

...

A silence stretched between them, punctured only by the cacophonous chirps of crickets. As the sun set clouds were sweeping toward the monastery, rolling in from the west and throwing the courtyard into shadow. Soon it would rain, or even pour, and the festivities would likely end for the night… 

In that silence Ferdinand considered many responses before landing on exactly one.

"Fuck you," he said. 

Hubert looked at him sharply, his eyes glinting with a swirl of emotions potent enough to make Ferdinand shudder: contempt and affection, duty and hatred. Then Ferdinand felt teeth on his face, felt blood. 

For a split second he sincerely considered whether a Demonic Beast had leapt from the shadows and assailed him before -- _ ah -- _

This -- this was a kiss. 

It was not like kissing the noblewomen who came wooing. It was altogether different. He would have sworn on his life he wanted this not at all and yet he _ did _ , he knew not how or why. Hubert smelled like that accursed tea, goddess. Bitter and intoxicating and _ intense. _

“Don’t speak,” said Hubert hoarsely. 

It was apparent that Hubert was satisfying a need. Ferdinand knew not what, nor why, nor why him, why _ he _ could meet that need; he knew only that Hubert had grabbed him by the collar, shoved him against the courtyard wall, and was now kissing him gracelessly, sloppily. As for Ferdinand, he… well, he… 

He did not dislike it, he supposed, letting out a tiny moan as Hubert did _ something, _ goddess, with his teeth, his fingers weakly scrabbling at the other boy’s robes. He didn’t know what to think. Couldn’t think. Didn’t want to. _ More_. He wanted more. He was having quite a bit of trouble thinking, even as he leaned into the kiss despite himself, eliciting a growl from Hubert, normally so restrained -- 

He had never understood Dorothea’s admonishments that he was too chivalrous in his dealings with the fairer sex, too gallant_. _He had not even really stopped to consider what that might mean. For how could one be too gallant, too noble? Was nobility not a trait to be desired? 

But after this, Ferdinand thought dizzily, he could see why a woman might want more than flowers and gallantry. 

That just a kiss could do this was… It was… 

"Black magic," said Hubert, letting go. 

Ferdinand’s head was spinning, his breathing shallow. He slowly sank down the wall as his legs folded beneath him; he heard Hubert’s voice as if from far away. Blood pounded in his ears.

_ Hubert… has this power? Such power… over me? _

"I sealed your voice," said Hubert, "with your blood. You will be mute for some time.”

_ I… what? _

Hubert seemed impossibly tall. 

“You were curious about my tome of silencing spells, were you not?”

_ What are you talking about? _ he said, or tried to say. But no sound came out. Even the effort of constructing the sentence seemed impossibly futile. His vision swam.

Hubert smiled very slightly, looking down at Ferdinand. For a moment he saw himself as Hubert must have: uniform crumpled, hair in disarray, dazed and disoriented... 

“This look rather suits you,” said Hubert serenely.

And he was off, sweeping away in his robes, as Ferdinand slumped to the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally the bastard child of three discrete ideas (ferdinand being competitively gay, hubert shuttin him up with an EVIL KISS, hubert’s a fuckin vampire) that i combined into one bad fanfic because i don’t have time or insp to write any all the way through. sorry for the THEMATIC INCOHERENCE  
n petra baby you’re not the only one having a misunderstanding 
> 
> liberties i took:  
white heron cup is not in summer but i like summer so just pretend it is  
i am sure the game specifies whats in hresvelg blend but I DONT REMEMBER
> 
> title: my strange addiction since i, a Liver under a Rock, heard billie eilish two days ago and am now obsessed <-- late to the party


End file.
